


You And Me Forever

by Wilde_Shade



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 00:55:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4857062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wilde_Shade/pseuds/Wilde_Shade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ford needs someone he can trust to take his last journal. He sends postcards, but no one comes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You And Me Forever

**Author's Note:**

> After years of casually orbiting fandom from a comfortable distance, Gravity Falls had pulled me back in. It's gotten out of hand, so I'm here to dump the trash from my Stancest trash heap. Uploading this and several other fics all at once, (hopefully, the formatting survives transit) so this A/N will likely be copied and pasted a few times.
> 
> I'm not sure if I'll keep adding these fics to my AO3, but they will be added to my tumblr side blog o' sin. Feel free to follow: http://sheepishandshamefaced.tumblr.com/

  


  


The snow outside had started to melt. The nightmares persisted. Postcards turned to phone calls.

Of course Stan would be hard to find when he needed him. Ford had a vague idea of where he’d been and who he’d been. Legally, it was a mess. The last time Ford had gone digging out of curiosity, he’d received phone calls from the FBI for a month. Stan was trouble. Best to leave it alone.

But now he was out of options.

When someone finally returned his phone call, it was a rude fellow calling in regard to a Stetson Pinefield. It took Ford a moment to place the name as one of Stan’s aliases. The guy was looking for money, which came as no surprise.

“You looking to square away his debts?” the man wanted to know.

“I’m just trying to get in touch with him.” It was a struggle to keep the annoyance from his voice. Ford hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in ages. Days were blurring together, and his patience was wearing thin.

“What’s it worth to ya?”

“Nothing! I don’t-” Ford took a deep breath. “He’s my brother. Stanley’s my brother- Or Stetson. Whatever he’s calling himself. It’s very important that I find him.” He probably shouldn’t have said that last part. He fully expected the lowlife on the other end of the line to try and gouge him for money twice as hard.

Instead the voice on the other end fell silent for a few beats. When he spoke again, his tone had softened. “What’d you say your name was?”

“Stanford Pines.” Too late, Ford wondered if giving this man his real name was a good idea. God, he needed sleep.

“Twin brother, yeah? That’s right.” The man on the phone sighed. “Look, buddy, I hate to break it to you, but your brother’s dead.”

Ford heard the words. His mind could define each of them individually but couldn’t quite make sense of them all together. “I’m sorry?”

“Your brother’s dead,” the man repeated, slower this time - impatient, but not without sympathy. “Rico had him killed- What was it? Let’s see… Two months back now, I think. I’ll spare ya the details.”

“That’s not possible.” Ford had seen and heard a lot of impossible things these last few weeks. This was another one. Stan couldn’t be dead. For two months? Ford would have known. “I… would know.”

“Sorry, buddy,” said the man. “Call the cops if you don’t believe me. John Doe, fake id that read Stetson Pinefield… Real sorry for your loss and all, but I gotta go.”

The line went dead.

Ford felt cold.

Ford dialed 0, got an operator. He figured out the right police department. He explained what he was looking for and was transferred several times. He listened to himself speak as if standing over his own shoulder, observing the conversation rather than participating in it.

Yes, there was a John Doe. Cremated now. Yes, fake id. Yes, Stetson Pinefield. Was Stanford really his brother? Well, that was important. Would he be willing to hold for just a moment?

Ford was transferred three more times. He learned a description here, a cause of death there. Beaten to death. Teeth and fingers removed to  slow identification. It was all in the news paper. A motel owner identified him after his car had been missing for a while and half his bill was left unpaid. Stetson Pinefield was the photocopied id they had on file. Fake, of course. And who was Stanford again? His brother? Would he hold?

Ford hung up the phone. He looked down at the desk in front of him. He pieced together what he knew. It all seemed feasible. It all matched the information Ford already had- Except, it couldn’t be. Stan couldn’t be dead, because Ford would know.

But he did know. Deep down, he’d known when he’d sent the first wave of postcards and Stan hadn’t come running.

_“Us forever, Sixer,” he’d said, when they were teenagers. When he had found Ford at night, sulking in the Stan o’ War. “You can tell me.”_

_Ford didn’t want to talk. He was too embarrassed. Between guessing and innocuous followup questions, Stan coaxed it out of him. Stan was more clever than he knew. “And what’d she say then?” he asked._

_“She called me a freak.” Ford’s voice broke on the last word. He felt tears of frustration hot on his cheeks. He felt Stan’s lips on each of them, head between his brother’s strong hands._

_“Hey,” said Stan, punctuating each kiss with vague reassurances. “It’s fine… Stop it… Hey… It’s fine.” He pulled back. He offered him a crooked smile. “So what if you’re a freak? You’ve got me, right? I’m better than some stupid girl.”_

_Ford had taken a deep and shaky breath. He met his brother’s gaze and, unable to keep a smile off his own face, very pointedly said, “No.”_

_They both dissolved into laughter and name calling, wrestling on the beach in the dark and the cold, until they were both out of breath. They laid there then, huddled close and panting. “I love you, Poindexter. You know that, right? I’m here for you, whatever happens.”_

“I love you, too,” Ford said, to no one in particular, to an empty lab, in Gravity Falls, in Oregon. There hadn’t been any women. Not really. Ford wasn’t good with women. Ford wasn’t good with people. Stan had understood that- but Ford hadn’t been good with Stan either.

Ford was crying. He wasn’t sure how long he had been crying, but by the time he realized there were tears on his face, he was sobbing. It was an all over pain, a full body spasm, an undulating chill that crawled all over your body - the kind of feeling reserved for when you’re too sick to get off the bathroom floor - and, apparently, for when your other half died. Stan was dead. His twin was dead - had been for two months.

Two months ago, Ford had been tied up in his work. Two months ago, Fiddleford had been there, too. He’d told Fiddleford about Stanley. He knew he had. He’d left out the good parts. He’d told him how Stan sabotaged his future, and how he had risen above. He’d told anyone who cared to ask that story. He’d told himself that story.

Ford left out Filbrick’s role in it all. He left out the way he had closed the curtains. He could still feel the fabric in his hands and he could still hear Stan’s voice in his head, trying to appeal to him through the window. It always left a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t like thinking about it, so he didn’t.

Ford kept busy. He always kept so busy.

Ford wasn’t sure how long he stayed at his desk. He sobbed until he couldn’t anymore, until the whispers broke through his misery. “Stop it,” said Ford, head in his hands. “Shut up!” But they wouldn’t. They never did.

Ford tore open a desk drawer. He rifled through it, frantically, until he found what he was looking for. It took every match in the booklet to burn his journal. It still didn’t burn completely. In the end, he took it upstairs, found lighter fluid, and finished the damn thing off in a trashcan, with a light from the stove.

Next he would deal with the portal. Then the rest of the journals. Then the house itself. Ford hadn’t decided what to do with himself after that.

He just wanted to burn it all.

  



End file.
